


Five Things Roland Heard From the Front Seat

by JustAWritingAmateur



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3494945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAWritingAmateur/pseuds/JustAWritingAmateur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roland reflects on his employer.  Drabble.  Implied Trustshipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things Roland Heard From the Front Seat

1.

An endless clicking of buttons. The window separating him from the backseat rising and lowering, stopping halfway. The tinted windows of the limousine sliding down--traffic roaring outside--then back up again. The mumbling sounds of the backseat television screen as the remote is fumbled with, then silence as it is hastily switched off. The whirr of seats moving backwards and forwards. A loud jolt of music--something poppy and obnoxious--as the buttons on the backseat dashboard are jammed in rapid succession.

A curious “what’s this one do?” followed by an irritated “don’t--”

He swallows a smile, keeping his eyes on the road.

2.

Muttering. Under his breath. Obscenities. Curses. As if no one will hear--and it is as if no one will hear him, because the barrier between the backseat and front seat is permanent and unmalleable. 

“That fucking Yugi Moto--”

No one to hear him as he veers into near rage. Uncontrollable. Almost frightening. As he pounds against the window. Another obscenity as he undoubtedly hurts his hand in the process.

He wonders if offering a casual “sir?” is completely out of line.

3.

He sees him through the rearview window, catching glimpses of his employer’s slumped form. Legs crossed, coat strewn over his knees. Hands folded in his lap. Head pressed against the door, hair in his eyes. Chest rising and falling evenly.

And then--

The sound of snoring. A gentle rumbling sound issuing from his employer’s lips, threatening to drown out all thought. All background noise. Powerful. Embarrassingly so.

Perhaps he is human after all.

He briefly considers letting him continue in his deep slumber as the car pulls up into the driveway.

4.

The slam of the car door. 

Silence. Tension. Thick. Clenching. A gasp.

A hasty intake of breath--

A sob…?

He does not dare to ask.

5.

“Oh--”

A female voice, exclaiming breathily. A pronounced thud against the backseat. Bodies pressing into plush leather. Moving against one another. 

Then, again, more languorously: 

“Oh…” 

The sound of a zipper. A deep groan. A giggle.

Flesh bumping lightly against flesh. 

The female voice again: 

“Please, Seto--”

A rustle of fabric. A prolonged gasp. A sigh.

Huskily:

“Ishizu…”

He supposes that he will not be informing them that they’ve already reached their destination.


End file.
